Kostya offered to drive me to school. It wasn't a short trip, but to my surprise the streets were nearly empty, as if the city had collectively decided there was no need to rush anywhere at this hour. My father handled the car with effortless ease, one hand resting lightly on the wheel. Watching him, you'd think there was nothing more natural than driving—but I knew how deceiving that impression could be.
Once, my mother had taken me out to an empty field, insisting I try driving. Maria believed it was her sacred maternal duty to teach me herself, rather than pay for a professional instructor—though, looking back, I suspect she simply couldn't afford one. I had never known fear quite like the moment my foot eased off the clutch and the car lurched forward before stalling with a violent jolt. My head smacked the headrest, and I let out a startled scream. Maria, equally panicked, yanked the handbrake. My driving career ended then and there. I swore never to touch a steering wheel again.
Some people are born to drive. Others are born to ride. Passengers, after all, enjoy certain privileges—watching the forest whip past in a blur of green without a single ounce of responsibility, stress, or control. Pure pleasure. And if the driver doesn't mind, you even get to pick the music. A charmed life.
Kostya's voice broke into my thoughts.
"We need to sort out how you'll get to school in the mornings," he said. "I won't always be able to drive you. Duty shifts are all over the place right now, people are trickling back from vacation, and even here, crime's picking up. Ever since they opened the new highway, we've been swamped. And potato season—don't get me started. Trucks rolling in and out, hiding contraband under the crops… We're like truffle pigs, sniffing everything out. Too many strangers in Kserton these days. And…" His tone sharpened. "Girls have started going missing."
He glanced at me, making sure I was listening, before turning back to the road.
"It's getting dark earlier. After classes, my colleague will drive you home. Bright blue four-door—you'll spot it easily in the parking lot. Today I'll try to get you a bike. While the weather's still decent, it's perfect. See there?" He gestured toward a narrow paved path running below the roadside, skirting the edge of the forest. "That'll take you straight home. You just need to turn at the sign—"
"—to the Bugrad," I finished for him. "If anything, I'll ask my classmates. Someone's bound to live nearby."
Kostya shrugged. "Maybe. I don't even know who'll be in your class. Kids are all sorts, even in the gymnasium." He arched his brows, just slightly. "In any case, you'll make friends. And if not, you can always transfer to a regular school."
His optimism could have carried the both of us, but mine was running thin. With every mile, the weight in my chest grew heavier. In theory, no one in a small town would dare trouble a police officer's daughter. But theory wasn't always reality. I told myself I could endure until the new year, when my stepfather's hunting season would be over and a move might be possible. Half a year without friends—surely that was survivable.